


When Stars Go Out

by awintersrose



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Immortal Orochimaru, M/M, Naruto Magic Week 2019, Post-Apocalypse, Red Thread of Fate, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awintersrose/pseuds/awintersrose
Summary: There comes a point at which immortality becomes more burden than blessing. After the world comes to an end and must begin again, Orochimaru takes fate into his own hands.





	When Stars Go Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WrithingBeneathYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrithingBeneathYou/gifts).



> For Naruto Magic Week 2019 - Prompt "Torn From the Earth"
> 
> Inspired by art gifted to me by the incredibly talented WrithingBeneathYou, posted [here.](https://writhingbeneathyou.tumblr.com/post/181362164857/unofficially-part-2-of-awintersroses-gift-for)
> 
> Special thanks and many hugs to shipcat and Krikee for their wonderful support<3

The seasons form and shatter into a fragile landscape of scenes he once knew too well; constantly moving in their infinite ebb and flow, a mockery to his condition of immutable stasis.

Endless. Weightless. Eternal.

A dream turned into a waking nightmare. Immortality granted when what he’d wished for was the knowledge of all things, and yet the wheel turns and turns and turns in a blighted orbit, a poisoned ouroboros, until he is all that is left.

He walks and the earth clings to his feet, arid and powder-dry. Broken earth that has seen teeming oceans wane and dry to deserts, as mountains crumble and fire rains down from the sky above. Yet still he remains, a relic of ages past, unable to change.

Orochimaru’s fingers trace the magatama that dangles from one ear, preserved with a seal, a remnant linked to one lost long ago. Despite its blue color, the jewelry serves as a link to the red thread of fate, a tale steeped in forgotten truth.

And his time draws near.

Ozone colors the air with its scent, and he seeks shelter whilst the first new rains begin to fall and lightning shatters the sky. When the wild storms subside, the earth beneath his feet has finally turned fertile  once more , rich and laden with new moisture. And the sky - the sky is no longer hazed over with the vermilion cast of ash and fire. It is clear, painted in an azure blue that he only remembers from a place within dreams.

The end is the beginning again. All it takes is patience… and time. 

His blessing. His curse.

Then life springs from that once-barren ground, filaments of greenery blooming into meadows and forests. At his urging, fresh water flows into ancient riverbeds, and Orochimaru knows beyond doubt that magicks both new and old will once again speak to the power of his hand. It has been decades since the elements have answered his call so completely. 

Whether by now his existence has been sustained solely at the hand of the Goddess remains to be seen. His accomplishments once began by sheer force of will, and it is he alone that remains standing, with the knowledge of the ages, and the ability to set a new world in motion. Nevertheless, a still small voice has remained his guide. Insanity? Perhaps, which is why he gives himself leave to be selfish, since the earth and its powers are his to command. He is the only one left, after all.

But he will remain solitary no longer.

Absently, the serpent touches the magatama dangling from his ear, twin to the one buried with his mate. The smooth lapis stone is unnaturally warm to the touch, as if echoing his thoughts. Four masks drag tangled in the expanse of his long, long hair as he walks into a verdant, shaded bower chosen for the ritual. Between eldritch magick and jutsu once outlawed by men long-dead, Orochimaru will call back the soul of their master, his beloved. One of many hearts, but the one truly his own was the hardest won. 

Once immortal, his Kakuzu - but not really. How cruel the fates can be.

Sunlight filters through leaves that rustle in the warm West wind, and he prepares the summoning circle, the seals, techniques he’s had planned for over a century; perfected, only to be prevented the day the sun went dark. If ever there was a time he wished for death, it was then.

Orochimaru doesn’t need the kunai in his hand, nor the tag with its carefully drawn seal - the implements are merely a focus for the power he draws from the elements. Neither does he need a sacrifice when he can siphon part of his own soul in exchange for what he wants. 

One by one, he unravels the masks from the tangled locks of his hair, still sentient even after so long without a body. He places them around the circle; four anchors, four directions. He removes his earring, the fifth point of connection, and calls power to his hands, envisioning Kakuzu’s resting place.

Lightning strikes, wind howls, and a great plume of fire scalds the air, clashing with a rush of living water as the earth itself is rent in twain. Steam shimmers in the periphery, and in the space of a single breath, the veil between worlds is parted right before his eyes. With the kunai in hand, Orochimaru peers into the realm beyond, knowing that with the red thread of fate in sight, his lover will be drawn forth towards rebirth. 

When Kakuzu lives and breathes again, Orochimaru has sworn to lay the whole world at his feet - the ideal gift for such an avaricious heart. But first he must succeed.

The raucous cacophony of a million voices rumbles through the jagged expanse of the void, beckoning him, threatening to tear apart the very fabric of his spirit. As one who once mastered Edo Tensei, who summoned the Shinigami itself - in this moment Orochimaru has so much more to lose. For a few seconds, a trace of mind-killing fear creeps in, but he quashes it in an instant.

Without the anchors, Orochimaru will be undone; imprisoned in a place betwixt and between. The focus in his hand, his attention remains fixed upon the scarlet thread now winding around it, calling forth a memory of jade green eyes and a smile laced with pure devilry. A memory blurred at the edges after the last hundred years, but never forgotten.

All at once the voices go silent, and a sharp vibration steals its place, as strong as a thunderclap resounding through his form, stealing his hearing. He holds onto the kunai with all his might, suspending that precious memory in his mind even as the darkness presses in and his sight goes black. Something shatters, sharp and ice-cold, pressing in on his soul itself, exacting the price he knew he’d pay. 

Orochimaru knows without knowing that he’s being weighed and measured. His screams are soundless in the void, this endless grey from which no man escapes. Until today - so long as he holds on to hope and the knowledge of his own power. 

Through it all the thread still holds, until at last he loses consciousness.

The gentle rustling of the wind rouses him to alertness, but it's a deep voice, singular and smoother than the finest sake, that makes his eyes flash wide in near disbelief. 

"My, haven't you been busy, snake?" 

There, lying beside him on the sun-dappled ground is the keeper of his heart, a vision of tanned skin and nut-brown hair, with eyes of emerald fire. No longer marked, no longer cursed. 

And now Orochimaru will ensure that Kakuzu is never lost to death again.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a kudos or a comment if you can, I would love to hear from you <3
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: [awintersrose.tumblr.com](http://awintersrose.tumblr.com)  
> Pillowfort: [www.pillowfort.io/awintersrose](http://www.pillowfort.io/awintersrose)  
> Twitter: [www.twitter.com/awintersrosered](https://twitter.com/awintersrosered)


End file.
